nine2five 9 Ins & Outs
by Marc Vun Kannon
Summary: A revision of Fake Name, without Chuck as an assassin, or Shaw as a boyfriend. That's gotta be a good thing, right?
1. Head 2 Head

**A/N** It occurs to me that with the wedding coming up (eventually), it might be a good idea to start getting ideas for some of the music they'll play at the reception. I have some, but I'm an old fogey too.

* * *

"_Be a dear and hold this for me."_

" _I'll have to get my 'mean face' on__."_

"_Goodbye, Nicos."_

"_Start with her."_

* * *

Chuck lay there in bed, contemplating the Ring. It was looking kind of tarnished, by now. A little worn. He lifted his hand and stroked the little band of gold on his wife's finger. She'd been rubbing at it and it showed, a cheap wedding band procured for a cheap wedding.

She deserved better. A better life, a better husband, better everything. The life, even the husband, was a long-term project. A better ring could be gotten somewhat more quickly. He could go out and get one tomorrow, or some tomorrow when he had a lot of money saved up, but…_When to give it to her?_ He'd have to think about it, come up with the perfect time and place. It wasn't like there was a Miss Manners guide to the subject.

"What are you doing?"

Of course she was awake, and of course he hadn't noticed. "Hmm?"

"My hand."

What _was_ he doing? "I'm…spinning your ring, isn't that obvious?"

"Spinning my wedding ring. Is that like spinning the bottle? I would have thought we were a bit beyond that stage in our relationship."

"You played spin the bottle?"

She pulled her hand away, hid her face against his chest. "If you can call it playing, when you have to trust to an inanimate object, random chance, and some stupid boy's pride to get…anything. The tortures of youth."

Her teen years hadn't been happy ones, and he'd somehow managed to remind her of the fact. The tortures of youth had nothing on the foolishness of age. "Ah. I must have missed that one, what with having only Morgan and Ellie to play it with."

She burst out laughing.

He much preferred that sound. "And, uh, no, it's not like playing spin the bottle. It's better."

She looked up at him. "Really?"

He smiled _that_ smile. "Oh, yeah."

She held up her hand. "Show me."

"Round and round and round she goes, where she stops..." He took his hand away. "Hey, look at that. I win again."

She gave him his prize. "I like this game. My turn."

* * *

"Hey Hannah, can I talk to you a second?"

Hannah looked up from her circle of listeners. "Sure, Agent Carmichael." She looked apologetically at her audience but most of them were staring at Sarah and didn't notice. So fleeting is fame. She expected Sarah to pull her into a quiet spot but instead they walked down the hall. "Where are we going?"

"You know all those reports you analysts complain about reading?"

Hannah's heart sank. "Yes?"

"Well, now it's your turn to write one."

"My turn?"

"You participated in an action last night, so you have to write a report about it. You didn't think it was all kickass, martinis, and sex, did you?"

She hadn't thought about it at all. "Obviously not, or the reports would be much more interesting."

They shared a laugh together, and then Sarah asked, "So who's your young man?"

"I have a young man? News to me." Hannah started patting her pockets.

"I got used to every male head in the room turning my way a long time ago. I plan on it, I use it in my work. So when I walked over to your little gabfest and one of those male heads stayed focused on you with rapt admiration, believe me I noticed."

Hannah grabbed Sarah's arm. "Did you happen to notice which one?"

* * *

Carina aimed a vicious kick at the shield on Casey's forearm. "All I'm saying is next time, let him take _your_ gun away from you in the middle of a firefight."

Casey caught the kick and pushed it away, bringing up the other shield. "I was outside–" (punch) "Shaw couldn't exactly–" (kick)"–follow you into the ladies' room, and Sarah–" (kick) "–had already established herself as a class-A bitch–" (punch) "–so it was unlikely Hannah would go after her for another go-round." (punch)

Carina blew the hair out of her eyes with an angry puff. "Stop being reasonable!"

"Do you really have a problem with a successful mission? 'Cause I sure don't. And it's not like you didn't get a chance to beat up on some heavily-armed goons in a skimpy dress in front of an appreciative audience."

She smiled. "There is that."

* * *

Hannah hit the backspace key yet again. "They actually give you guys lessons in how to write this badly?"

"No. They give us lessons in how to think clearly, and it sort of…carries over."

Hannah leaned back and pointed at the dismal paragraph she'd managed to cobble together. "You call this clear?"

Her coach shrugged. "We're supposed to see what's happening, not what we think is happening. 'Tipping the valet' could as easily be 'passing a disk to a co-conspirator.' That sort of automatic assumption could be death to us, or the vital clue that causes the mission to fail."

"Well, this sort of writing is death to _us_, let me tell you."

"Tough. And your dislike of my husband shouldn't carry over into the report, either."

Hannah slumped. "Is it so obvious?"

"'Significant other' instead of 'husband'? Pretty obvious, yeah."

"You said to be neutral."

"About what you see, not the stuff we already know."

"You're not mad?"

"Why would I be? _I _don't like him much on missions, either. He gets the job done, but he's cold, and I like my warm cuddly-bear." _I need him._

Hannah grinned. "Now _there's_ a word I'd love to see in a report." The grin faded. "I was afraid it would hurt your feelings, or piss you off, or something."

Sarah laughed that off. "A beautiful woman _not_ falling in love with my husband. I think I can live with that."

* * *

The easiest way to get a weapon through airport security is to not try to get a weapon through airport security. There are just far too many ways to get something cheap and untraceable at the destination site, and for the kind of specialty weapon this assassin favored, the Ring had its own transport network.

He had backups too, since he trusted the Ring as much as he trusted anyone, and he didn't trust anyone.

* * *

"Telescope, this is Eagle-Eye."

"What happened to Graboid?"

"That was this morning, Perfection. Right now I've got a completely different sort of undercover operation for you. We've got a ping on a major annoyance, by name of Rafe Gruber."

"Where have I heard that name before?"

"He's an assassin, does a lot of work for the Ring. Always on the move, he does a lot of in and out jobs, and whatever you're thinking don't say it, even over a secured network."

"Spoilsport."

"They got sloppy on this one, using one of his known aliases, must be in a devil of a hurry. If we get a move on, we can hopefully take him by surprise."

"Copy. Let me just tell Hannah we'll have to change our lunch date."

"No, don't do that. It's perfect."

* * *

"Thanks for inviting me along on your girl's afternoon out," said Carina, less than totally sincere. The outdoor café they were in left them far to exposed for her comfort. She sipped her drink and winced. Could use some alcohol, and so could the drink.

Sarah shrugged, gaze rarely straying far from the exit. "You and Hannah have met already, so why not?"

"If you call a stranger sticking a gun in your hand and a plug in your ear 'meeting someone'," muttered Hannah.

The two agents laughed. "Well, there's meetings and then there's _meetings_," said Sarah.

Hannah looked around, kept her voice low. "Which ones have the poison?"

"The second, definitely," replied Carina. "You got poisoned?"

"By accident. They were trying for her," Hannah pointed at Sarah, "but I stole her drink."

"Sounds like something I would do." She watched as Sarah turned an interesting shade of red, thinking of all the things Carina not only _would do_, but _had done_.

A waitress brought their food and they waited until she left.

Hannah lost no time slicing into her meal. "Sarah got me the antidote."

Carina stabbed into her salad, staring at her friend. "Nice of her."

Sarah didn't stare back, looked at Hannah instead. "It was the least I could do after you stabbed that big guy in the leg."

Carina looked at Hannah too. "What'd you stab him with?" She finally sounded like she cared.

"A pen."

_What? _"And that worked?"

"Well, the plane was falling out of the sky at the time, so he lost his balance and–"

Carina sat back and frowned at both of them. "You two are making this up."

They just sat there, looking at her.

"Then how come I never saw a report on it?"

Sarah shook her head. "I was doing a favor for Shaw, what with him taking a bullet for me and all, so he did the paperwork. I was just Subcontractor A."

Carina speared a cherry tomato. "That must have been either a big bullet or a small favor."

"He kept me safe, and my husband always pays his debts, as do I. Not everything's about size, you know. As it turned out it was just a key of some kind."

"What does it open?"

"No idea. Shaw's a Ring expert, we're the best Ring ops team on the East Coast. If it has anything to do with the Ring he'll come to us eventually. Incoming."

Hannah wondered what that last comment was about, while Carina pulled out a mirror and looked behind her while pretending to check her face. "Oo, my ride's here. Do me a favor, Blondie, and doggy-bag this stuff. It's pretty good." In spite of her words, she sat and continued to peck at her food, watching the door.

"Are you leaving?" asked Hannah.

"In a bit. I'm waiting for my new boyfriend to show up."

"You have a new boyfriend?"

Sarah smirked at her friend. "Carina's always got a new boyfriend."

"Hey, don't blame me. You abandoned your sacred duty, so I called dibs."

"So who is he?"

"I don't know, I haven't seen him yet. When I do, I'll be sure to let him know."

"You mean you'll be sure to let _me_ know."

"I was very clear about what I meant." She looked up and smiled. "Ah, that looks like the lucky fellow now." She stood up, grabbed her bag. "Don't forget, Blondie, doggy bag."

Sarah gave her a nod and a wave, the kind you give someone when you remember they said something but can't remember what it was.

"She'd better hurry up," said Hannah. "He looks like he's going somewhere fast and it better be there when he arrives."

Sarah turned to observe, reaching discreetly into her pocket. "Carina knows what she's doing. She doesn't play 'hard to get' so much as 'hard to avoid'."

The valet stood by the opened door as Rafe got into his rental.

"What's she waiting for?" said Hannah.

They watched as Rafe got out of the car again. The poor valet did his best, but it was clear to the professionals that whatever his client was saying to him was rude and unpleasant. "That," said Sarah. "It won't stop her in the slightest, but seeing how he treats underlings will tell her a lot about how she needs to treat _him_."

Rafe stopped digging his fingers into the underlings shoulder, toss his folded tip contemptuously on the ground, and turn back towards his car. The valet stooped to get his meager prize.

Sarah fired.

"Did you hear that?" said Hannah, turning her head to try to locate the sound, missing the sight of Rafe reaching for the dart.

"Hear what?" Sarah was clearly focused on the scene, so Hannah abandoned the minor mystery and watched with her.

As he fell into the car Carina stepped over the valet and pushed her mark into the passenger side. "Hey, honey, let me drive."

The two ladies watched as the car roared off down the road and out of sight.

"And there they go." Sarah turned and signaled to the waitress for a container.

Hannah grinned. "I hope she doesn't hurt him."

Sarah returned to her interrupted meal. "I think he'll get exactly what he deserves."

* * *

**A/N2 **I dislike Fake Name immensely. The whole 'Sam' thing (which, by the way, Maverick41 did a great job expanding on in his story s/8708964/1/Chuck-vs-The-Finally-Getting-To-Deal-With-The-Whole-Name-Situation), the dentist thing, the Hannah break-up, which inspired me to write s/6318406/1/Hannah-HISHE to give her a happier ending than she got. Just so many reasons to hate that episode.**  
**


	2. Face 2 Face

**A/N** It occurs to me that with the wedding coming up (eventually), it might be a good idea to start getting ideas for some of the music they'll play at the reception. Any suggestions for the playlist are welcome, but I don't promise to use them. I have some, but I'm an old fogey too.

And tshdow, I completely agree, Hannah could have been much better, but all they wanted was a romantic alternative. They created a female Chuck, his perfect match in many ways. It's no wonder to me that Sarah likes her.

* * *

"_You didn't think it was all kickass, martinis, and sex, did you?"_

"_Stop being reasonable!"_

"_You two are making this up."_

"_I think he'll get exactly what he deserves."_

* * *

Carina pulled the rented car into the garage of a house she'd never seen before, not a bit surprised to see John Casey come into the attached garage. He lifted the unconscious and handcuffed body of Rafe Gruber with more than his usual level of grunting and carried it into the kitchen and through to an unused bedroom. A sturdy metal chair had been bolted to the floor, and after Casey put his cargo into it Carina set about securing the prisoner as Casey and the man whose house it was looked on.

"What is it about you and handcuffs?" said Casey.

"What is it about you and very large, long guns?" said she.

"Freudian banter aside," said Shaw, "I'm glad you called me in on this. A CIA holding cell is more physically secure, but if the Ring has a mole in the right place that means nothing." He activated the recorder, making sure the monitors were receiving a good signal. "It's a miracle you got a hit on his location. I don't suppose you can tell me how you managed it?"

"You'd be right."

Carina stood. "They played quick and dirty on this one, we just played quicker and dirtier back."

Even John had to admit that no one did 'quick and dirty' better than Carina.

"Do we know who the target is?" asked Shaw.

"Nope, although from the speed and sloppiness I'd have to say somebody high-level. We've got people looking at upcoming events, suddenly laid on."

Carina patted the unconscious hitman on the shoulder. "We could just ask."

"No, we can't. All we have is an alias and a traffic-cam photo, so until…" Casey stopped in mid-sentence and turned away. "What's that, Eagle-Eye? Roger that." He turned back to Shaw. "We've got positive confirmation that this is our man, so I guess we can let him wake up and volunteer to tell us everything he knows."

"He's not going to," said Shaw.

Casey lifted a large bag. "Counting on it."

* * *

"No, not really," said Sarah. "You were acting, but I wasn't. Aliasing a real person is much deeper than pretending to be a fake one. Most times when you fail the audition it doesn't get you killed. You have to become that person, act like them, respond like them, _curse_ like them, if you want to survive. It's not how you act but how you react that matters."

"You aren't trying to tell me you really _are_ an art thief…?"

"The 'art thief' part was acting, the snooty bitch part was aliasing. I have, unfortunately, met quite enough of those. Right now, though, I am Sarah Carmichael, international ice cream thief." She dug her spoon into the contents of the bowl in front of Hannah.

Hannah watched as Sarah put the spoon in her mouth. "You could have gotten your own, you know."

Sarah swallowed, and said, "I just did, you must have missed it. Here, let me show you again–" She lifted her spoon.

"Hey!" Hannah covered her bowl and pulled it away.

The unoccupied third chair buzzed at them.

"You gonna get that?" asked Hannah, when Sarah made no move.

"Why should I, it's yours."

"Mine? Who'd be calling me?" Hannah pulled out her bag from the pile of stuff.

_Your young man_. As her friend's part of the conversation progressed Sarah realized that wasn't the case. It looked like lunchtime was over. She signaled for the bill and another container, that ice cream was too good to waste. Being a good friend, she helped Hannah not waste any while she was on the phone.  
"That was Dave," said Hannah after she hung up. Her afternoon boss. "He needs me back right away."

They stood. "What's up?"

"I don't know, but he sounded pretty upset."

* * *

Casey came out of the bedroom a lot earlier than anyone expected. No one was watching the monitor, not while having lunch.

"Did he break, or did you kill him?"

"Neither," he snarled, washing the blood off his hands. "He got a phone call, and I had to tranq him while I answered it."

"His contact?" asked Shaw.

Casey nodded. "I've got a meeting."

* * *

Hannah came through the doorway already shedding her coat. "Dave? I'm here. What's the emergency?"

Dave rolled back on his chair until he could see her through the door to his office. "Come on in, Hannah. There's no emergency, but you're gonna want to hear this."

* * *

Sarah watched her friend disappear into the building but phoned from the car. "Eagle-Eye, this is Telescope."

"Telescope, this is Eagle-Eye. Congratulations on a successful mission. How was your lunch?"

She could still taste the ice cream. "Expensive, but good. Gruber certainly doesn't stint on his accommodations."

"I hope you got the receipt. Being the–my job really doesn't pay as well as I hoped it would."

Like he would ever care about money. "Don't worry, cheapskate, it's mission-related. What's the latest?"

"He's not on-site. On advice, we brought in Shaw, who recommended a safe-house rather than a CIA cell." He gave her the address. "The gang's all there, waiting for you."

"Good, I've got Carina's doggy-bag with me."

"Hmm, not sure they'll have time for that, Perfection."

* * *

Casey walked into the kitchen, dressed in his hitman best, black pants, black shirt, black shoes. Carina was even willing to bet he was wearing black underwear and socks, not that she was willing to do any of the things she'd have to do to know for sure. "Looking good, Killer."

He almost smiled. "I was born to do this job."

"It does seem to suit you," said Shaw.

"Although I would have said 'stitched together' rather than 'born', I have to agree, it's you," added Carina.

Casey sneered at her, refusing to dignify her comment with a grunt, and pulled out his phone, on speaker. "Walker? What's your ETA?"

"Ten minutes. Hannah got ice cream."

Carina rolled her eyes.

_Whatever._ "Not good enough. You're gonna have to meet us there." He gave her the address.

* * *

"Do you see her Porsche?"

The van had no windows in the cargo area, of course, but the monitors inside did the same job even better. "In this neighborhood? Be kind of hard to miss, provided it hasn't been hauled off to a chop-shop already."

Shaw made the call. "Agent Carmichael, give us your location please."

"If that's your tastefully-decorated and completely non-obvious CIA-issue black van that just drove past me, well, you just drove past me."

"Check our six."

"I see a company POS back there, engine warm. Could be her."

An arm stuck out of the driver's window of the car behind them and waved.

"It's her."

"You think?" Casey threw it into reverse and backed the van up in front of Sarah's…vehicle. She lost no time leaving her car and climbing into the van. "Geez, Walker, you must have picked the only car in the lot that they'd take to a chop-shop to _fix_."

She ignored his blinding wit. "I can't go in there with you. There was a bit of an incident here a few weeks ago and they might recognize my face."

"How big an incident are we talking about here?"

"I don't really remember. I think there was a fight."

"That was here?" said Carina. "She was tanked, Casey, no way they'll have forgotten her by now."

Casey was starting to get a headache. "Great. Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, you had to go into this one?"

"A _Casablanca_ quote, Casey? I'm impressed."

"You know Ronald Reagan was considered for the role of Rick, don't you, Walker?"

"No, but why am I not surprised you do."

"You sound too much like Chuck when you do that, you know. The nerd's rubbing off on you."

Silence reigned at the obvious straight line. After a second, Casey turned, Sarah turned, even Shaw turned to look at Carina, who looked at no one.

She unclenched her fingers. "Nope, not gonna say it."

"Thank you," said Casey. "Shaw…?" He looked to his right. "You really don't look the part."

Shaw looked down at himself. White shirt, black tie, not the look of a man who traded in casual violence. "No, I don't think so."

Casey looked in the rear-view. "Carina, you'll have to be my arm-candy, I guess. I know it's a step up for you, but do you think you can pull it off?"

"You're so funny, Casey."

"Well, at least somebody in this van appreciates humor. Let's move it, people."

* * *

The first thing 'Rafe Gruber' saw when he entered the bar was muscle. The thug took a deep thuggish breath, coincidentally showing off the gun in its holster, and held out a hand for Casey's weapon. John grabbed two fingers, broke them, and dragged the thug down to the floor for a quick interview with his kneecap.

'Strike first, strike hardest.' The Han Solo rule.

Ever the gentleman, John offered an arm to his escort to brace herself as she stepped over the body. Her high heels rang loud on the tiled floor, her gum-chewing was louder. John did his best to ignore her.

Two men sitting, four left standing. They looked like…gangsters. What the hell is the Ring doing, working with gangsters?

"Rafe Gruber, we meet at last." The man in charge didn't bother to get up, or offer to shake hands. "The last time we worked together for our mutual friends you were less forthcoming."

_Anyone who sees my face dies._ Didn't these dimwits realize that their 'mutual friends' had just sold them out? Casey took the soon-to-be-dead man's espresso. "Consider it an honor." He tossed the drink back, enjoying the bitterness. "I don't like to waste my time meeting or talking. Who's my target?"

* * *

"Wow," said Shaw. "Casey was right. He was born to play this role."

"He's not playing," said Sarah.

* * *

"You got any relatives in Philly?"

_Probably._ "Nope."

"'Cause you seem really familiar to me."

"Having 'one of those faces' is useful in my line of work, like a straw in a haystack. Nobody recognizes me because everybody knows someone who looks like me."

"Yeah, I guess…"

"Hey, Mr. Gruber," said the second man, jumping into his boss' hesitation, "I'm a big fan of your work. Do you mind if I ask what your toughest assignment was?"

John moved like lightning, slamming the heavy coffee cup down on the table in front of the two men. It exploded under the force if the impact, shooting out pieces in all directions. "It's gonna be this one if I don't get a name!" He stood back, turned up his hand, revealing the fragments of pottery imbedded in his palm. He started pulling them out, casually tossing the bloody pieces onto the table. "If I don't get a name, I'll just have to make one up for myself, and I got a couple of ideas right now."

"Sure, sure thing, Mr. Gruber," said the second man. "It's–"

"Now I know you," interrupted the first man in triumph. "I knew a sniper, back in the day. Had some nerve damage to his palm, loved to do that cup trick to scare people." He pulled out his own gun. "Name Alex Coburn ring a bell?"

* * *

"Dammit! They think he's a fake, we've got to get them out of there now!"

"How?"

* * *

Casey looked around, saw a bunch of suspicious looks and guns aimed his way. Even with Carina at his back, they were going to have a tough time getting out of this. He had to stall, give Walker and Shaw some time.

"Wait a minute," said a loud female voice. Carina walked around Casey slowly. "Are you saying that this guy, my guy, is not who he says he is? That he's not the greatest assassin in the country?"

"Yeah, missy, that's what I'm saying."

"Good." She snatched his gun out of his hand, whirled and smacked Casey in the face. A follow-up kick pushed him back against the bar, and Carina was turned completely around again before anyone else had even moved. "Otherwise, who would _I_ be?"

* * *

**A/N2** Comments appreciated, as always.


	3. Heart 2 Heart

**A/N** I found the torture scene especially grotesque, not least for being completely unnecessary. Season 2 Chuck would have found a way around it, I'm sure.

* * *

"_Counting on it."_

"_I was born to do this job."_

"_You're so funny, Casey."_

"_Who would I be?"_

* * *

The lisping, overweight blob of grease said the first thing that came to his mind. "Rafe Gruber's a girl?"

"No, 'Rafe Gruber' doesn't exist," Carina said in her best Casey snarl. "I invented him because I got tired of killing everyone who thought ladies couldn't be assassins. But since you've just blown that cover, it looks like I'll have to fall back on the old tried and true." She brought up the revolver and cocked the hammer.

Its owner put up a hand in placation. "I'm sure my associate meant no disrespect, Miss…?"

"Gruber." Carina raised an eyebrow at the associate on the other side of the pistol.

"No," he stammered, "No disrespect."

Carina glared at her target for a second more, and suddenly smiled. "Well, I prefer my gentlemen callers respectful." She uncocked the gun and tossed it back to its owner. From her purse she pulled out the much larger automatic she preferred. "So tell me why you have a problem with my face-man."

The boss looked at John Casey, crouched on the floor. "The Alex Coburn I knew was a killer, but he was also straight-up, true blue. No way he'd work for no merc–" Carina frowned and raised her gun "–or any professional that wasn't Uncle Sam," he finished hastily.

"So you're saying my face-man is a fed?" She turned to her fallen partner. "That's a serious accusation, John. What do you think I ought to do about it?"

Casey touched the sore spot where the gun had hit his cheek. "Same as you always do, boss, kill me and find another patsy."

She walked over and looked down on him. "Why John, you'd have these nice, respectful gentlemen thinking I was nothing more than a common murderer." Reaching down, she gripped his shirt with one hand and hauled him to his feet with no apparent effort. She looked at the boss and his lieutenant. "Mr. and Mrs. Smith, do you think your four associates will be enough to strap him down?"

"My guys know what they're doing, Miss Gruber. Two and two, guys." Two to duct tape Casey's arms and legs to the chair, two to hold their guns against his kneecaps if he resisted.

* * *

"Two senior, four junior," noted Shaw.

"Good work, Carina," said Sarah into the mike. "Plan B is in motion."

* * *

"Here, Miss Gruber," said the boss. He put a roll of something on the bar. "These were passed to me by my old boss, but the times have changed, ain't had to use them in a while. Be a pleasure to see them used by a professional like you." He unrolled the bundle to reveal a collection of dental tools.

Carina looked the items over, selected a dental speculum. "You're right, Mr. Smith, times have changed. Put this stuff in a museum where it belongs." She went over to Casey. "Open wide, John."

When he resisted, one thug punched him in the gut and she slipped the tool in while his mouth was open. A few clicks kept it that way.

"What you gonna do?"

"There's no need to drill holes or pull teeth to get what you want, gentlemen. There are quite few points in the mouth where the simple application of pressure creates excruciating pain. He'll tell me what I want to know, and I won't even have to leave any marks on the body." She stuck her fingers in Casey's mouth.

The big man groaned, struggling against the tape.

Blob of grease lieutenant was a slow learner. "That don't look like much."

She frowned at him. "Perhaps you'd like me to demonstrate on you?"

"Yeah," said the boss. "Demonstrate."

Carina smiled at the fat, suddenly-sweating man. It didn't make him feel better. "Open up." She stuck the muzzle of her gun into his mouth. "Wouldn't want you to bite me. You understand."

He didn't bite her. If anything his mouth opened wider to scream when she pressed the nerves in his mouth that she hadn't pressed in Casey's.

She let go, wiped her fingers off in disgust. "Next time I charge extra for the lesson." She turned back to her taped partner. "Now, John, anything you care to tell me?"

Casey shook his head, and she reached for his mouth again.

Doors slammed open under the impact of heavy bars of metal. "FBI! Nobody move!"

Carina moved. Even as most of the thugs in the room fell to FBI tasers, she was clearing a path through to the nearest door, leaving a trail of downed agents in her wake. In moments she'd won freedom for herself and the two bosses, losing themselves down an alley before any of the agents could follow to see where they went. "Another time, gentlemen. You have my number."

* * *

Inside the bar, the 'unconscious' FBI agents stood and checked themselves over for injuries. Agent Shaw flipped back the visor on his helmet. "Good work everyone. Thank you for your assistance. Please give our regards to your station chief." He took off his shield and vest and left them on the bar, as did Sarah.

As the FBI took control of the situation, Sarah and Shaw cut Casey free and they left discreetly through the rear entrance.

"That went well."

Casey touched his sore cheek. "Could've gone better."

"Come on, Casey, that was a brilliant piece of improvisation by Carina and you know it."

"And I expect you're gonna want me to say it to her face, aren't you, Walker?"

"You'd say it to…some of our other associates."

That was true, and Casey would not lie, not about that. "Fine."

The van was where they'd left it, the CIA extras being more than enough to defeat the local car-jacking community. As they approached, Sarah's phone buzzed at her, and she dropped back a little to answer it as the van door opened. Carina was waiting for them inside.

"Agent Miller," said Shaw. "That was quick thinking in there. You saved your partner and the mission."

Carina's eyes lit with appreciation, and flicked over to Casey for his reaction. His obvious discomfort told her just how pleased he really was.

"Yeah, what he said." Casey tried to avoid the issue further by going around to the driver's side, but Shaw stopped him.

"I should drive, in case anyone who knows those two should see the van."

Casey grunted and went into the back. Carina wondered which would bother him more, not looking her direction all the way back, or the first aid kit she'd laid out for him. And…here came Sarah.

"That was Hannah. She's apparently got some information that's 'too good to share over the phone', so I'm going to take the garbage-mobile back to Langley before she explodes." She took a few steps away from the van, then stopped and turned. "Oh, Carina, that was–" But the side door had already slid shut and Shaw took that as his cue to pull out.

* * *

"Graboid, this is Perfection."

"Hey, Perfection, you're back!"

"How'd you know that, Graboid?"

"Well, I figured if you were outside you'd use Telescope instead of Perfection, because that is, after all, the purpose of a telescope, to see things that are far away–"

"You're babbling again, Graboid."

"Shutting up now."

"Were you listening in?"

"No, afraid not. They had me scheduled today, your op was routed through an FBI station…"

She knew that, and didn't care. "Fine. Does the name 'Alex Coburn' ring any bells for you, Graboid?"

"Just, ah, just some redacted files. He was born in Philadelphia and was once single, that's about all I've got."

"Well, that narrows it down some."

"I'll get right on it. Who needs to know?"

"No one. Keep it local."

"Not even Casey?"

"Especially not Casey."

* * *

"Hey, Sarah, you made it! Come on in!"

Sarah looked around at all the familiar faces in unfamiliar places. "What's all this? I thought you had some news for me."

"I do, but not just you, For everybody!" Hannah turned toward the open office door in the middle of the space. "Dave, Dave! She's here!"

He rolled back, looked out the door. "Finally? Thank God! Every minute I wait I'm an hour behind…" He walked out of his office and climbed up on a table. "Ladies and gentlemen, ladies and gentlemen, a lot of you know that this party is in honor of our new associate Hannah, but none of you knew why, until right now. It is with a sense of deep regret and foreboding that we have to let our dear friend go…"

The entire audience sighed out a negative.

"Yes, she must go," repeated Dave. "To her new posting as joint analytical and technical specialist to our Burbank office, hopefully to bring to it the same calm, order, and tranquility she has brought to us."

"May God have mercy on her soul," someone said, to general laughter.

Three cheers and a toast later, Sarah finally got a chance to talk with her friend. "They're promoting you? After a month?"

Hannah started ticking off her fingers. "They like my work, I fill two open spots, and I've the fewest ties to break…"

Sarah looked around at the crowded room. "Just every heart in two departments. And they're sending you to Castle?"

"You know it?"

No one more senior wanted to go. _At least this one will stay in the car…_"May God have mercy on your soul."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?"

"When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow morning. At least I get to have one last breakfast there, she has the most amazing new breakfast chef…"

"How about I come by, tonight, and help you pack up a little?"

"I don't have much."

"That's why I said 'a little.'"

* * *

Carina stepped out of the shower, every sense alert. As 'Miss Gruber' she'd rented a small penthouse suite for the night. As Miss Gruber she showered. She fastened her towel in place and picked up the gun hidden under it. Something wasn't right in the outer room, and she reacted as Miss Gruber would. "Don't move."

"I'm not moving, Miss Gruber," said the blob of grease lieutenant. His boss had her encrypted watch in his hand.

"Are you really trying to steal from me?" Fortunately nothing of Carina was in Miss Gruber's suite.

"Not at all, not at all. I was just looking at your watch."

A Ring agent was holding her CIA watch. She gripped the edge of her towel, prepared to pull it off in case she needed a sudden distraction. "Why? What's it to you?"

"What's it to _me_?" He tossed her only link to the rest of her team out the window. "It ain't nearly classy enough for a classy dame like you. We, uh, _acquired_ a new one on your behalf, a little thank you present for getting us out of that tight spot."

She took the stolen Rolex from grease-boy. "Thank you. I'll sweep it for bugs later. Now I'd like to get dressed, so get out before I make my own privacy."

"No can do, Miss Gruber," said grease-boy. "Your window of opportunity is shrunk, you got to move now."

"We located your target on your behalf, but we have to get going to do the job."

She lifted her gun. "Fine. Hand me that case. Scrub the room while I get ready. Then we'll move."

* * *

Sarah placed the stack of disks in the box, along with the books. "You're a techno-geek, you should be ashamed. You should have all this stuff digitized."

Hannah ran a finger down the binding of her favorite volume of poetry. "I like the feel, the smell of a book. Its weight. The sound of two notes together. Science may be digital but art is analog. It fills in the spaces when you live alone."

"Hey. You're not alone, not anymore. Don't think just because you're moving to LA you can get away with not writing. They have this thing called the Pony Express now."

Hannah grinned. "Yes, ma'am."

"Seriously, you have made a difference to a lot of lives, especially mine. So many things I never had the courage or motivation to do before, but now thanks to you…"

"You're becoming a real girl, with a real life."

"No," said Sarah, shaking her head. "I have those, I have the actions, I have the things, a friend showed me that. What I don't have is the words, so many things I've never said, or if I've said them, I've never meant. And that's something you showed me. We've been married for months but until a week ago, I never even told Charles my original name. Then I did, it just came out, and it was easy. I'm not weaker, or more vulnerable for it. I'm relieved. Thank you."

* * *

"_I'm relieved."_

Carina lifted her head from the scope, took off the phones. She'd known Sarah Walker for years. _Years!_ Who deserved the truth first, more than her? Who deserved the thanks?

A voice cut through the sudden pounding in her head. "Well, what are you waiting for? Shoot!"

What would Rafe Gruber do? She knew what Carina Miller would do and that was sure as hell not the right thing right now. "Which one? There's two girls in that room. Who's the target?"

"Her name is Hannah."

"That would really help if she was wearing a badge that said 'Hi, my name is Hannah', but since she isn't how am I supposed to know which one to kill?"

"Just shoot 'em both."

"I don't do freebies!" She abandoned the perch, picked up her pistol, checked the clip reflexively, and headed for the door.

"Where you going?"

"I'm going to ask them their names," she said sweetly. _And God help her if she didn't get the right answer._

* * *

**A/N2** Comments appreciated, as always.


	4. Toe 2 Toe

**A/N **I admit I played a little bit fast and loose with the timing of these events, but no more than they did on the show.

* * *

"_Rafe Gruber's a girl?"_

"_Perhaps you'd like me to demonstrate on you?"_

"_May God have mercy on your soul."_

"_I'm going to ask them their names."_

* * *

Casey was scrubbing the house.

Rafe Gruber was gone, taken away by company transporters for whatever level of interrogation was considered necessary. Their final words hadn't been words at all, Rafe's lip, curled in an eloquent sneer, had been answered by Casey's fist. The house would be repaired, carpeting replaced, and eventually put on the market now that its purpose had been served.

That was for the long term. In the shorter term, care had to be taken that no fingerprints were left behind, no evidence for enemy agents. Not that he thought there were any out there, but the agents who lived longest were the agents who acted as if they were. He'd reviewed the tapes, made a list of all the rooms they'd ever been in, and moved methodically through each one. He even vacuumed the upstairs where they had never been, to bring down the level of dust to match the rest of the house.

Finished at last, he checked his clipboard, running down the list. Satisfied, he went to sign off. _Where's my pen?_

* * *

Rafe Gruber left the cuffs and the disassembled pen he'd used to open them in the back seat, and got out of the car. He went through the dead transporters' pockets, harvesting whatever resources he could before their absence became known, mostly guns and money. Taking the keys from the crashed car, he opened the trunk and got the evidence bag, and his—where was his cell phone?

He got one of the agent's smartphones, otherwise useless to him because of the tracking, and called his own number. He'd long ago disabled his own phone's tracking feature for exactly this reason, but he'd left a back door for emergencies like this. He got the equivalent of a GPS trace, and pulled up a map showing its location. Three times he did this, and three times got the same result. His phone was stationary.

He ran to it.

* * *

"Daniel Shaw."

"Shaw!" said Casey. "I just got off the phone, Gruber's transport never arrived. Have you been in contact with Carina lately?"

Shaw called up the tracer program. "Yes, she called in once she got established in her cover."

_Her cover. _A penthouse suite paid for with taxpayer money. "Is she still there? I just scrubbed the house, I have no gear here."

"One moment." Shaw entered the code for Carina's watch. "I see it showing still at her hotel."

"I was afraid you'd say that. I already called her suite, she didn't pick up. You go there and check it out, hopefully she was just in the shower. I'll put out a trace on Gruber's phone."

"I thought his phone was untraceable?"

"I know a guy who can get a signal from a bran muffin, Shaw. We'll find it."

* * *

"Hello?"

"Graboid, where are you?"

From zero to anxious, in one sentence. "I'm…at the Doctors'. Perfection's out with a friend so I came here."

"Dammit! I need you to run a trace for me. The killer's escaped and Stampede has his phone."

"Hold on, Dirtnap, I can network into the system from the Doc's computer. If he can find it so can I." He just had to somehow think like an international assassin. Sarah had often talked to him about what she so routinely did, now it was his turn to give it a try.

* * *

"_Truth serum?_"

Sarah nodded.

"So while you're under truth serum your husband asks you your real name and you say 'Sam'?"

"It's terrible, I know."

Hannah threw her folded blouse into the suitcase. "I didn't say it was terrible, and if you'll notice, neither did he. It's one of those truths that defined you when very little else did, an anchor as you leapt from one alias to another. But it's not aliases you're changing now, it's _you_. How can it be terrible that you have trouble letting go of something so basic? Most people never have the courage to do that, even if it's killing them."

Someone pounded on the door. "Open up!"

* * *

Rafe Gruber walked into the lobby of the hotel, checking reflexively for a trap and not seeing one. He dialed the number on the agent's stolen phone once more. Eighty feet, straight up. He headed for the elevator.

* * *

Casey's phone buzzed. "Dirtnap! I got an address for you. He disabled the tracker, but he's using a stolen phone to triangulate his own."

"Good work, Graboid," said Casey as he wrote. "I'll call Stoneface, see if he's found Stampede yet."

* * *

"Negative, Colonel. The room is clean, except for a Rolex box in the trash."

"What happened to her old watch?"

"Tracker is showing it…ten feet beyond an open window with a negative z-vector."

"They threw it out the window?"

"Looks that way, but it can't have fallen far."

"We'll get it later, Shaw. Right now get to the address I gave you."

"I'll be late."

"Better than never."

* * *

The second the door opened Carina pushed her way through, giving the diminutive brunette a hard shove for good measure. _"Who the hell do you think you are?"_

* * *

Rafe Gruber kicked the door in, taking the men watching and listening at the sniper's perch by complete surprise. "Who the hell are you?" one of them asked.

"Rafe," said one bullet.

"Gruber," said the other. The two men had no more questions after that.

He rang his number again, and a coat responded. He took his phone and threw the other out the open window as he looked to see what the men had been looking at. Three women in a room over a mile away, one with a gun. He picked up the head phones.

"_I know who I am,"_ said the brunette with surprising calm,_ "The question is, who the hell are you?"_

The redhead stepped forward, gun steady. _"You can call me Gruber."_

A girl! A girl was pretending to be _him_? He searched the bodies, found keys. He had to get there _now._

* * *

Sarah's eyes widened as she realized what Carina was saying. "Hannah," she whispered as loudly as she dared. When Hannah glanced her way, she murmured, "There's a sniper watching this room, and you're the target."

"What?" She looked back at Carina and the very big tube pointing her way. "Why me? I'm nobody."

Carina smirked, closing the door. "You got that right. A complete nobody." She paused, her eyes shifting from one to the other and back again. "I can't imagine why anyone would waste _anything_ on you, much less the kind of money it takes to buy one of my bullets, but that's just the way the world is." She jerked her head around to look at Sarah. "Unfair." She pointed her gun Sarah's way casually. "You, move around here."

Sarah moved as slowly as she thought she could get away with. Any delaying tactic in a storm.

* * *

Casey ran into the lobby and stopped, phone in hand. "Graboid. Tell me you got something."

"He hasn't made a call for a while, Dirtnap. Last vector was z plus eighty feet ."

"It's a hotel."

"Seventh floor."

* * *

Carina stalked over to the blonde and stuck the gun in her face. "Tell me your name!" she demanded. "Tell me your real name, _right now._"

Sarah stared at her wild-eyed friend, wondering what her game was. Why would it matter? "My name, my _real _name, is Sarah Lisa Carmichael."

A single tear ran from Carina's eye, shocking Sarah to her core. Carina never cried. "Is that the truth?" The redhead sounded almost like she was pleading.

Sarah nodded.

_LIAR!_ Carina grimaced in rage, raising her arm to swing.

* * *

The door smashed open under the force of Rafe's boot. He advanced into the room, gun raised and ready to kill everyone, but the redhead first.

Carina spun in place, bringing her gun around, far too slow.

Sarah moved to protect her friend.

A glass shattered.

Carina finished her spin, but her target was on the floor, a bullet in his brain and no threat to anyone anymore. She looked to her right, saw Sarah standing in defense of Hannah, ready to take any bullet that came her way. Carina lowered her arm, and the gun slid from her grip to thump on the floor as she just…walked away.

* * *

"Shaw," said Casey, ejecting the cartridge from the shot he'd just fired. Not a bad shot. "Head over to Mrs. Pendergast's B&B. Hannah was the target, but Gruber's down. I'll clean up here and join you later." He ran his hands over the silenced rifle and smiled, with no one to see. Today had been a good day.

* * *

The operative stood at the podium under the spotlight. "Leader, the operation is complete."

The foremost among the silhouettes responded, "What percentage of success?"

"All mission goals were accomplished, Leader."

"What was learned from these successes?"

An image of Rafe Gruber rose to the screen. "Gruber allowed his pride to overcome his professionalism, as we expected. His death was accomplished by a marksman of equal skill." The image sailed off into the recycling bin.

"Your ploy with his alias was well done."

The image of Hannah that had been placed in the operative's folder after the museum fiasco rose to the screen. "It is a sign of his disposability that his target survived. The woman Hannah is an analyst and technician of some ability, but insufficient to account for the observed reversals we have experienced so far. Plus her timeline doesn't match our observations. We believe her inclusion in the museum debacle to be a matter of proximity only. Questions are being asked, but no concern for her continued safety is being shown by higher powers. She is being dispatched to a relative backwater, most likely in an attempt to upgrade their behavior."

Another silhouette moved. "Which backwater?"

"Castle, in Burbank."

The table of Elders echoed with mild laughter. "May god have mercy on her soul."

"I think we may safely disregard this woman for the time being," said Leader. "Put her on a level two watch."

"It will be done."The operative touched the podium and Hannah's image sailed off to another folder. "We remain without a plausible explanation for the recent successes of the team which Shaw has allied himself with. The observed members are all agents, with Shaw himself the only analyst among them."

"And we all know how creative he's been these last five years." Again the table echoed with laughter. "Do we suspect a hidden analyst?"

"Of course, Leader. Someone spotted Gruber's alias, far faster than expected. But no reasonable candidates have surfaced so far."

"This is not a task for you. We will assign a longer range team to it. You will continue with your assigned task."

"Yes, Leader." Another photo started flashing, his next target, the Elders communicating their approval with a lack of criticism. "We find the behavior of Daniel Shaw to be suspicious as well."

"Explain."

"The mere fact that he's been a thorn in our side for five years is reason enough. The death of Evelyn Shaw should have crushed him. This level of resiliency was unexpected."

"That's because it is not resiliency. He is simply too stolid to do otherwise. We expected that any actions on his part would be thinly-veiled attempts at suicide, which we could exploit."

"Yet we have his recent successes, at the museum and elsewhere. Sharp, precise, effective. Something has changed."

A shadowed hand reached out to touch the desk, and suddenly the operative could hear nothing, as the Elders conversed among themselves. Then the hand dropped. "We agree, but this also is not a matter for you. We will take action. Something appears to have given him hope, and we cannot allow him to feel hope. Only in his pain is he useful to us."

* * *

**A/N2** This is the end of the nine2five version of the misery arc. I hope that it has proven to be a less miserable experience for you than the original. I re-watched the Mask and the Fake Name for the first time in order to get the timing and whatnot right. Please leave a comment and tell me my suffering was not in vain.


End file.
